A Toast to Friendship
by TheatreGirl81
Summary: Raoul and Erik finally find some common ground... Over drinks.


Christine knew she shouldn't have left Raoul back in the hotel, but she needed some time to herself to think. And to pray. She had come to Perros to visit her father's grave, and her young suitor had followed, saying she shouldn't be alone on such a trip.

Christine hadn't minded his company, but this… this was her private time to spend with her father. And her Angel. He had promised to be, to play for her on the anniversary of her father's death. And since Raoul was skeptical of this 'angel' and his intentions…

It was better Christine was here alone.

Suddenly the sound of music filled the air and Christine looked up from where she was kneeling. She couldn't tell where the violin music was coming from, but it was one on Gustave Daaé's compositions.

Christine felt the tears sting her eyes. "Thank you, Angel."

Raoul urged his horse forward, riding towards the graveyard. He was not sure what had awoken him, but he had come awake with a horrible feeling of dread burning in the pit of his stomach. Throwing off the covers he had made himself descent and then went to knock on Christine's door. There was no answer.

Down the hall a door had opened. "Monsieur, your friend, she is not here." The proprietor of the hotel looked tired and annoyed.

"I am sorry to have woken you," Raoul apologized. "But you say she is not here? Where has she gone?"

"Honestly I don't know," the man had replied. "The mademoiselle came to me and asked if I could call her a carriage."

"In the middle of the night?"

The man shrugged. "She said something about needing to go to her father. She pleaded with me."

"I need a horse," Raoul told him. "I'll pay you and I will bring it back."

She was going to the cemetery, Raoul knew that for sure. He would have taken her at day break. Hell, he would have brought her out here himself if she had just asked. But she hadn't come to him. She had preferred to risk herself in the dead of night.

He was losing her to a ghost.

Reigning his horse next to the gate Raoul dismounted and hurried over to the carriage. The driver was fast asleep and the faint sounds of a violin could be heard drifting through the air. Raoul kicked the wheel of the carriage, cursed the slumbering man, and went for the gate.

The Phantom smiled from his perch on the mausoleum; she had come. He had hoped Christine would believe in him and the fact that she was here without her Viscount… It was a good night. Christine would soon be his and he could fulfill his dreams and complete his compositions with the perfect voice to match his music.

Once he finished Daaé's composition, Erik began to play one of his own. It was a quiet lullaby with a sad undertones. It was soothing to Christine and she bowed her head as the music flowed around her.

"Christine!"

Erik winced as he hit a wrong note, disturbing the trace that had taken control of Christine. Damn that pampered fop and his meddling! The blond man was running towards his nightingale, putting his arms around Christine.

"Raoul, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same question," he retorted. "It's not safe."

"But…" Christine was torn.

Raoul took her hand. "I would have brought you out here, all you had to do was ask."

"The Angel of Music wanted me to come alone." Christine turned back to her father's grave. "I'm safe when he's with me. Did you hear the music, Raoul? He was playing Papa's music and it was so beautiful.

"I don't know what I heard." He tugged on Christine's hand. "Come, I'll bring you back here during the daylight hours."

"But the angel…" Erik whispered, his voice was one with the wind.

"What about my angel?" Christine persisted. "He's here, I know it."

"All the more reason to leave," Raoul pressed. "If there is someone here watching us… Spying on us… Let me take you away from here."

"Stop meddling boy," Erik hissed. "She is mine."

Raoul spun at those words and had his sword drawn in an instant. "Who's there? Show yourself."

"You are outmatched, Viscomte," Erik goaded.

"She is mine," Raoul yelled. "You are a coward, face me!"

"Stop this," Christine begged. "Please… don't fight."

"Ah, but the young man wants to prove his worth." Erik stepped out the shadows and jumped to the ground. "She we dance, boy?"

"See!" Raoul gestured with his sword. "He's a man, just as I said."

Erik advanced, pulling his own sword. "Don't let your guard down, boy."

Metal clanged and Christine squeezed her eyes closed. "Stop it," she screamed. "Not here."

"Is that all you have?" Raoul growled.

"Such insolence," her Angel retorted.

"I said stop!" Christine yelled.

Everything fell silent. Both men looked over at her, concern on their faces.

"Christine…"

"Stop Raoul. Just stop." She opened her eyes. "How dare you fight here? Would you draw blood on this scared ground and in front of my father's tomb?"

"But he started it," the Angel persisted. "He intervened here and broke the peace."

"Well I am ending it," the girl told them. "I'll not have the two men I care for fighting to the death. I belong to myself and I refused to be treated like chattel. Now I don't know why the two of you hate each other so much, but until you solve this feud I will speak to neither of you."

"Christine wait…"

She turned on a heel and stalked out of the graveyard. Climbing into the carriage she woke the driver. "Monsieur, take me back to the hotel, please."

"As you say, miss." The man cracked his whip and drove off.

Erik paced, worry evident on his face. He was in the hotel's restaurant, having arrived back last. Raoul had chased after Christine. His horse had been right outside the front gate. Erik had to collect his violin from the mausoleum roof and get to his horse, which had been tethered in the back of the cemetery.

When he got to the hotel he had heard Raoul pleading with Christine through her door. The Viscomte was getting nowhere. Erik hoped he'd have more luck when the young fop gave up and went to bed.

But a few moments later Raoul trudged into the room. He visibly bristled when he saw his rival prowling the room.

"What are you doing here?"

Erik sneered. "Do I need your permission to be here? This is a public space in a place where I am renting a room."

"You're following us," the boy sneered. "You are stalking Christine and I swear it you harm her…"

"I would never harm her," Erik said. "She is everything to me."

"Then you know why I cannot allow her to be seduced away from me. I love her as well and I will never stop fighting for her."

"Let's be honest," Erik replied as he spread his arms out. "You only want her because of the rush of the chase. Your brother forbids the romance so you defy him like a love sick child. As soon as you seduce her into your bed you'll run off to your next conquest."

"That is not true," Raoul replied. "How dare you speak about the love I have for Christine. We have known each other since childhood and her father taught me to appreciate music."

"But I would allow her to remain at the Opera, surrounded by the music she loves. Can you say the same? Would your perfect married life allow her to follow her dreams?"

"There's no talking to you," Raoul told him. "God, I need a drink. Why don't you take off that mask? Who are you; you certainly aren't an angel."

"You'd need to drink a lot before you're ready to look upon the face of the Angel of Music."

Raoul went behind the bar, looking to see if there were any open bottles of alcohol. "Gin or Brandy?"

"You want to have a drink with me?" Erik was skeptical.

"Well, seeing how Christine won't speak to us what else is there to do?"

Christine threw the covers back and stalked to the door. "Go away!"

"Mademoiselle, it is Monsieur Tremblay, the owner. Your friends are causing quite a ruckus down stairs. You need to make them stop."

Christine wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and opened the door. "I don't care what they are doing. I don't want to see them."

The man sighed. "They are disrupting everyone's sleep."

"If they want to choke each other then so be it."

The man looked confused. "They are not hurting each other, mademoiselle. They are drunk and disorderly."

That got Christine's attention. Pushing past the man she headed for the stairs. True to Tremblay's words, both men were laughing. Her angel sat on the bar telling a story about Persia and a palace he had built. An empty glass was overturned beside him. Raoul was at one of the tables, drinking straight from a bottle.

"Christine, you've come to join us," her angel slurred. "He jumped to his feet and gave her a deep bow.

"What… What's going on?"

Raoul turned and flashed Christine a smile. "We're getting along, Lottie. He tells the most wonderful tales! He claims to have traveled all over. You were right; we just had to sit to talk. He's not so bad, unless you count that mask."

The Angel poured another drink and saluted Raoul. "And you, my friend, are persistent if nothing else. I like a man who refuses to stop fighting for what he wants, even if it's what I want. You know, I think we can work through are difference after all."

Christine sunk into a chair. "I think I need a drink too."

The angel found another glass and poured some brandy. "We should do this more often. You know, make it a tradition."

"How about after Christine's next performance?" Raoul suggested.

"Sounds good to me," the Angel replied. "Here's a toast: to friends, fops, and the next great diva of the Paris Opera."

Christine tipped the cup back and drank. What had she just caused?


End file.
